


Something more

by Beweme



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, One-Sided Attraction, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beweme/pseuds/Beweme
Summary: Between the lustful touches and hot breaths on skin, Maxwell can't help but hope that there was something else there, too.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Something more

Wilson's hand was tangled in Maxwell's hair, brushing gently against his scalp, while the heavy, slow breaths were escaping through his lips. Maxwell's jaw was getting tired, but he stubbornly kept going, just to hear Wilson's pleased voice saying sweet praises at him, just to satisfy that small desire inside him that yearned to hear the compliments and commends from the other man.

Wilson was always too kind to him. He'd stop if Maxwell said he was tired, that he couldn't go on as long as Wilson did and it was starting to feel uncomfortable. The hand on his head pet him gently, the other one of them sweeping briefly his face, while the man pushed a bit deeper.

"You're so good, so good to me..."

 _Good. Wilson thought he was good._ It was all Maxwell needed to hear to keep on going, even though his jaw hurt like hell and felt like it'd get stuck like that, and it was bit hard to breathe when Wilson's dick was practically hitting the back of his throat, a bit too deep, and Maxwell had to fight against the gagging reflex. But it was worth it, it was worth of hearing Wilson moan and huff and whimper just for him.

"I'm- I'm getting close, _ah_ -"

Wilson slowed down and leaned away, but Maxwell pulled him back. Wilson liked this, he was getting close and Maxwell wanted him to feel good the whole way til the end. Wilson didn't fight back, instead just grabbing his hair as he started thrusting. Maxwell let out a chocked groan, and the hands on his hair started to stroke him absentmindedly, Wilson's voice hushing Maxwell softly.

"You're doing great, you're doing so well..."

Maxwell swallowed back the growing feeling of discomfort and tried not to feel the difficulty to breathe, grasping into that one warming thought that settled in his mind. _Wilson thought he was doing great, Wilson thought he was doing well. Wilson thought he did a good job, Wilson liked him._

It didn't take for long before the younger man tensed up and his fingers grasped tighter into Maxwell, and the bitter, sticky substance filled his mouth. Maxwell tried his best to swallow, but his troath was too stuffed, his jaw too hurt, it was difficult to breathe, difficult to pull himself together when so many different feelings were fighting for his attention. He decided to concentrate on the last one, make sure he at least had air running into his lungs if nothing else.

And then Wilson relaxed, shuddered softly and pulled away, dropping on his knees, taking long, deep breaths, hands still loosely holding on to Maxwell's hair.

Maxwell let his mouth hang slightly agape, leaning on Wilson's shoulder as the man tried to catch his breath. He really wasn't able to keep up with the scientist, but if it made the young man happy, he'd try. He didn't fight against it when Wilson started to fall on his back to lay down and held him close to fall with him. He didn't mind.

Wilson's weather roughened, dry hands were still on his head, slowly petting his skin with tired and content movements, satisfied to be close, satisfied to be near. A thumb slid down his cheek to briefly fly across his lower lip, as Wilson gave a slow, gentle chuckle.

"You have to wash your face."

Maxwell furrowed his brows together. He didn't want to leave. He just wiped his face to his sleeve and lowered it back on Wilson's chest. The man proceeded to pet his head fondly, letting out a quiet, breathy laughter. It sparked a warm feeling inside Maxwell. Wilson's laughter was always so genuine. He barely ever laughed, too tired, too busy with survival, too upset to find any joy to make that little weird sound. But when he did laugh, it was always light and pure.

Maxwell pressed his ear against Wilson and listened the dying laughter humming inside him, listened his heartbeat and the small noises his body made.

"You want to stay here?"

Wilson probably wanted to keep working already. He always had too many projects unfinished, always something to work with, always something new to add to the pile of other projects, each one needing attention and time. Sometimes Maxwell would've liked to stay like this a bit longer. To feel, just for once, to be more important, more appealing to Wilson than his endless science projects and the little inventions, always half-way done but never quite ready.

Sometimes Maxwell wondered if this was just fun to Wilson. Sometimes he wondered if the only kind of closeness, only kind of intimacy was the physical one, purely out of need and want they shared. Although it was mutual, consensual, it wasn't always what Maxwell wanted. Not always the only thing he wanted anyway, but he had never voiced his thoughts out loud to Wilson. What would Wilson even think about him then? How horrified he would be about the fact that Maxwell was so very fond of him, more than Wilson would ever accept?

The young man just run his fingers lazily on his neck, and Maxwell breathed out a long sigh. He wanted to stay here, on top of Wilson, letting the man pet him in tired movements, but he didn't want to stay in the way of the more important, more vital things the other man no doubt was waiting to get back to.

"We don't have to."

It's what he always said. Whenever Wilson asked if he wanted to stay like this, if he wanted to just be close and lay down and do nothing else than just cuddle there, he'd always say that they didn't have to. Wilson didn't have to. Maxwell wanted to stay like this, but he knew Wilson didn't.

"No? I don't mind."

Sometimes Wilson said that, told Maxwell that staying like this wouldn't bother him. But it wasn't really the same thing as _wanting_ to stay, was it? It was only if Wilson had time to spare, only if he didn't have anything else scheduled that had higher priority than Maxwell. The hands on his neck moved to gently caress his upper back, pressure in the touch, almost massaging him with his palms.

"How about you just lay there and let me take care of you after you've taken such a good care of me?" Wilson hummed and tilted his head to see Maxwell's face, but the older man turned further away. He would like that, he really would.

Sometimes he couldn't help but to think, hope, that there was something more in the touches which Wilson was sometimes giving him, and he was afraid that he'd actually let himself believe that. Sometimes he almost did, when Wilson would curl his fingers in between his own, or toss and turn in his sleep and settle his head just almost on Maxwell's shoulder, or when he would occasionally do this. Keep Maxwell close even after the deed had been done, even after there was no need to be close like this.

Wilson's other hand had traveled down his back and Maxwell felt the scientist's knee pressing on his crotch, on the bulge that he had very hardly just proceeded to completely ignore in hopes that it would go away. Apparently Wilson had noticed it too, and Maxwell tried really hard not to let out a sound when the younger man kept gently rubbing it with his leg through the pants.

"It wouldn't be fair to leave you like this." Wilson mumbled and started stroking his fingers on Maxwell's hip, rubbing hand in circles while waiting for an answer. Maxwell hummed in nonchalant way, offering no real yes or no. Wilson was always almost annoyingly caring with him, asking stupid questions that didn't need to be asked, asking permissions and consent as if Maxwell had any real power to stop him, asking how he felt as if it made some difference for either of them, really.

The knee pressed a bit harder, not enough to hurt but just enough to really send in those feelings in his abdomen, and Maxwell groaned and pressed his head against Wilson's chest tighter. It didn't bother him to take care of Wilson when he wanted the intimacy, it didn't bother him to just take care of himself when Wilson wasn't feeling up to it. But it did bother him to have Wilson doing this 'returning a favor' thing. It felt somehow dirty, not the act, just the way Wilson always talked about it. Always saying how it was only fair, and how he wouldn't be a real gentleman if he didn't return the favor, and he would scratch Maxwell back since the man scratched his.

It wasn't as if Maxwell wanted some kind of payback for anything he did, he wasn't really waiting for it. He knew Wilson didn't mean it like that, he knew Wilson didn't think he had to do anything just for the fairness, just for the equal treatment, but it just sounded so inculpatory. Like Wilson just wanted to let him know that he wasn't going to let Maxwell think that he could use this against Wilson at any point, that if he did this to Maxwell, then he couldn't complain that Wilson owed him something.

Maxwell hadn't noticed when Wilson's hand had stopped, when he had fallen silent, but realizing it made him tense up. Had he done something wrong now? He rose his head and looked at the younger man, who blinked at him and tilted his head.

"You're not up for it?"

Maybe he wasn't, he _was_ tired. But if Wilson really wanted it...

"Of course I am, pal" he sighed and gave the scientist a familiar grin, a little bit sly and mischievous, and after giving Maxwell a bit longer, more serious look, Wilson nodded and pushed Maxwell off of him, laying side by side, and started unbuttoning his pants. The taller man shut his eyes and let the breath run through his mouth when those weather-hardened, yet still always so tender hands slipped inside his pants, and he pushed his head closer, pressed in on Wilson's head, and there was a small chuckle from the younger man just almost against his chin.

"That's it... I knew you'd like it" the other man cooed softly, not a hint of tease in his voice. It still made Maxwell turn his head and grit his teeth, and either it was a coincidence or Wilson noticed his mood shift, but not long after there was a light kiss to the flap of his ear, and Wilson's free hand, the one that wasn't busy stroking his erection, flew gently through his cheek and stopped to rest on his shoulder.

"Everything okay?"

Again with the unneeded questions. What was is to Wilson anyway? Maxwell just nodded and inhaled a shudder, and Wilson pressed another swift kiss on his ear. It wasn't unwanted, not at all, in fact Maxwell would've liked to kiss Wilson properly, have a taste of those lips and feel the warmth and moisture inside his mouth, have his slippery tongue dance with his own.

They had never kissed, not _really_ kissed, just left the marks and soft gentle pecks on each other's skin, just teeth and tongue and lips tasting the flesh and helping things along. But never kissed, never on the mouth. Never the way that Maxwell wanted, silently hoped for, and was always unceremoniously left to yearn, without any hope of ever really getting to do it.

Sometimes it felt like nothing had ever changed at all, that Wilson still thought that Maxwell was the bad guy... And perhaps he truly did think that. Perhaps he was right, perhaps Maxwell was still the bad guy. But then again, Wilson really didn't need to even try to tolerate him if he didn't want to. They had been here together for a long time, and they were getting along far better than they did at the start. Sometimes it almost felt like they were friends. Sometimes, very rarely, very shortly, it felt like they were something more.

Maxwell almost believed that there was something more. But never enough to let himself fall down that rabbit hole, no, he didn't let himself follow those feelings, knowing all too well that Wilson held no real fondness for him. The scientist had made it known ages ago that his need for touch had nothing to do with feelings for the magician, that it wasn't really Maxwell he wanted to touch or be touched by. But in the world like this, with the history they had together, he someway, somehow, had decided that what a better way to learn to get along and bury the old hatchet than giving one another something to feel good about, getting to feel good by someone else's touch when this world would get just a little bit too lonely and cold.

And Maxwell had long ago accepted it.

Wilson was pushing him on the edge already, and Maxwell bit his lip, sunk his teeth so deep it drew blood to hold on for a little longer. It never took too long for Wilson to make him finish, and it was always bliss, pure and utter pleasure and almost just intoxicating feeling, but even it was almost overshadowed by the feel of the person beside him, just the simple knowledge of who it actually was that made him feel like that, who it really was that pressed so close to him and touched him and spoke quiet words to him. He didn't need much else than crack his eyes open, to see the brown eyes and the soft, small smirk, the red-flushed face, and then the orgasm hit in hard.

Wilson's voice was there inside the static, leaving soft words behind that sounded encouraging and proud and just so oddly satisfied, and Maxwell was becoming undone just for the short sentences that slithered into his mind and were glued there strong and hard by the hand that was not on his shoulder anymore, but on his back, rubbing him gently as if Wilson knew, knew just what he did to Maxwell and how just the small bit of his attention could send Maxwell over the edge.

He came to the hand petting his hair, warm body softly entangled to his own. His brows drew together in confusion, almost in concern. Wilson was doing it again. The older man let him, because in the end, it was what he wanted, to stay close to Wilson, to be inside his arms and bask in his tenderness for a little while longer, even if he knew it didn't have any deeper meaning behind it.

"I like it when you're compliant like that" Wilson stated softly, his voice full of tenderness, the fingertips brushing lightly on Maxwell's neck, making him shiver under the touch "I like when we don't have to fight all the time. I really do." the lips pressed quickly on his temple and Wilson gave no signs of letting go or leaving.

And it was enough to make the small warmth lit up inside the old man's chest again, it was enough to make him think that he could go on like this without having to ruin what they had by hoping for something more, something that was never going to become real. _If Wilson liked him like this, he could be like this forever._


End file.
